


Another Line through the Pattern

by Kalypso



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:27:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalypso/pseuds/Kalypso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was the tragedy on Gauda Prime really necessary?  Suppose one person had the power to change the course of events?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Line through the Pattern

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the Freedom City Birthday Party of 2012, and as a tribute to Janet Lees Price, wife of Paul Darrow, who died in May that year. On the few occasions when I met her at cons, Janet struck me as a delightful and sensible woman, and just what Paul needed to ground him. And it seemed quite in accordance with her sense of humour that, the only time she appeared in _Blake's Seven_ , she was shot by him, because after all that's what Avon _does_ with his nearest and dearest. But if you watch that sequence carefully, you notice that, once she thinks she's out of sight, Klyn's dying fall slows down a bit and she goes into a crouch below her desk...

"Security personnel to main tracking gallery. Security personnel to main tracking..."

The brown-haired - receptionist? traffic monitor? - dropped beneath her desk as Avon fired. And at that moment a battered but familiar burly figure strode into the room, a young woman carrying a gun at his side.

"Is it him?" asked Tarrant.

"It's him," said Vila.

"He sold us, Avon," said Tarrant. "All of us. Even you."

Avon began to walk towards Blake. "Is it true?" he asked. The corner of his eye registered something moving to his right.

"Avon, it's me, Blake..."

A monitor on the wall behind the desk was swivelling slowly round to face Avon. It bore a message in green letters:

*SHOOT THE GIRL.*

Avon looked back at Blake. "Stand still! Have you betrayed us? Have you betrayed me?"

The screen of the monitor cleared and a new message appeared.

*NO HE HASN'T. DO AS I SAY IF YOU WANT TO LEAVE HERE ALIVE.*

"Tarrant doesn't understand!" protested Blake.

"Neither do I!" His eyes flickered back to the screen.

"I set all this up..."

*SHOOT FIRST ASK QUESTIONS LATER.*

"Yes!" exclaimed Avon, as he swung the gun round and shot Arlen.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" demanded Blake.

"OK," Avon said loudly. "I shot her. Questions."

"Promise you won't kill me if I stand up?" called a nervous voice from under the desk.

"Who are you and why are you still alive?" enquired Avon.

"Zelle Klyn." A bun of brown hair bobbed cautiously into view, followed by the face of the traffic monitor. "Deva told me to wear a safety vest, he says you can't be too careful with all these outlaws Blake picks up..." She scrambled to her feet and switched the sirens off. "That's better, I can hear myself think. Look, we haven't much time - I called for security, but they haven't come so..."

"Blake! They've found us!" yelled Deva as he rushed in. "The base is under..." He stopped and stared at Arlen. "Blake, what happened?"

"Klyn is about to tell us," said Avon. "Who is that girl?"

"Really, we need to - "

" _Explain_."

Klyn sighed. "As soon as Blake brought her in, I thought there was something familiar about her scowl, but it took me a while to remember where I'd seen it before."

"And?"

"A few years ago, I spent a term in the admissions department at Belhangria University. There was a girl on a military scholarship, and did she let us know it - insisted on being addressed as Section Leader Cral all the time. She was the class sneak, too. You only had to say the canteen lunch wasn't up to scratch and she'd be filing a report for dissidence."

"But Klyn," said Blake, "you may suspect her, but _killing_..."

"I'm not dead," said an indignant voice from the floor.

"Oh..." Blake suddenly laughed. "Aiming for the head again, Avon?"

"Remember I told you there was too much activity tonight?" Klyn reminded him. "Transports crossing without clearance? I suddenly put it all together just before Avon shot me. She's called in Federation back-up, and - "

"And," croaked Arlen triumphantly, "Your nest of rebels will be cleared out by my troopers any moment - "

"Now!" shouted Deva. "They're here! Back to back, everyone, and fire at the guys in uniform!"

**************

An hour later Captain Felton, checking his screens, saw the troopers returning through the trees. With a couple of prisoners, by the look of it. One limping and carrying a plastic box, what was that? He cursed again at being left to mind the ship on a mission like this. But, if it had gone to plan and there was any justice in the universe, the promotions would be indiscriminate. Felton wouldn't even begrudge that snotty undercover woman if he got his due. He pressed the door release and went to meet the party. Oh _yes_ , this looked like a triumph - he knew the big prisoner even from the other end of the corridor.

"You did it!" He only just remembered to salute in his excitement. "You took Blake! Who's the one with the limp?"

The man in black and studs gave him an evil look and directed another at Blake, muttering something about big feet tripping him up when he was trying to kick a gun away.

"That's Kerr Avon - _almost_ as valuable." (The man looked _almost_ mollified.) "Think we should make a strategic move into bounty-hunting, don't you?"

A slight frown interrupted Felton's grin. "Who are you? Where's Damer? Was he wounded? Did you rendezvous with Arlen - I mean, Major Cral?"

The troopers began to pull their helmets off, revealing some very unmilitary hairstyles. A long-haired blonde and a dark-skinned woman pointed their weapons at Felton's head, while the brunette who had already spoken smiled cheerfully. 

"Zelle Klyn. Sorry, your mates are all dead or wounded back at the base. Once you've handed over the ship and given me the codes for getting through the blockade, you can join them - we've evacuated. You'll be back under Federation control in a few days..."

"Temporarily," remarked the one in black and studs. 

"Careful, Avon," said Blake. "Your optimism is showing."

"For the first time in _years_ there's something to be optimistic about," said Avon. "I came here looking for a figurehead for the alliance. I found someone much more useful. A competent administrator."

"How do you know I'm competent?" asked Klyn.

"I got Orac to check your work record while we were walking here," said Avon. "Everywhere you went, performance improved drastically. The only thing I don't understand is why you never got promoted - you were always moving around but never at the level your obvious ability should have dictated."

"Never could keep my mouth shut about canteen lunches," said Klyn. "Come on, Captain, I need those codes."

Felton sighed. "I'll take you to the flight computer." 

"Tarrant here's the pilot, you'd better show him." She led them on to the ship.

"See, I _do_ pick the right people sometimes," said Blake, as the rest of the rebels followed.

"And then you waste their abilities," complained Avon. "You put her on _reception_..."

"Reception's a vital role, but as it happens she was monitoring traffic, which was also vital to base security..."

"Well, she needs to be director of strategy..."

"You're one to talk," called Klyn over her shoulder. "The first time you saw me, you tried to kill me. Do you normally do that to people you want to work with?"

"No, usually he waits until he knows you really well," muttered a smallish man with thinning hair.

Avon appeared to ignore that. "A simple misunderstanding," he said. 

"Yeah, and I've seen where 'misunderstandings' can lead. What do you think would have happened to all of us if you _had_ killed Klyn?"

There was an odd whirring noise; looking round, Felton saw lights flashing in the plastic box, and a voice uncannily like that of his old maths teacher spoke.

"If Vila really wishes to know, I can trace the chain of cause and effect to recreate that line through the pattern of infinity. But it would be a pointless use of my time. That line has ended. I can tell you that the odds in favour of the revolution have improved dramatically."

"Provided we get off Gauda Prime," said Klyn. "Let's go!"


End file.
